


The End of Elegance

by clementine (jeanniebee)



Category: Broadway RPF, Wicked - All Media Types, Wicked RPF
Genre: Angst, Broadway, F/F, Kidnapping, chenzel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13196946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeanniebee/pseuds/clementine
Summary: There is what should be.  And there is reality.





	The End of Elegance

**Author's Note:**

> Before anyone thinks "so-and-so would never act that way," wait till the end when all will be explained.
> 
> This story does not exist in any other continuity. It stands alone.
> 
> All song lyrics taken from Kristin's _The Art of Elegance_ are the property of the respective rights holders. In the interest of moving the story along, I only lifted what I considered the most relevant parts of the lyrics. But my transcribing cannot do justice. You have to hear Kristin _kill_ these songs.

_Beverly Hills, California - Early 2018_

While Idina had never been here before, "here" was self-evident. The illumination provided by the small dresser lamp allowed her to identify the subjects within the framed photographs, including the dwelling's owner, parents, and recently deceased pet. The jeweled crucifix adhered to the opposite wall, a devotional pamphlet on the nightstand, and the scattered tokens of a long and storied career established "here" as Kristin Chenoweth's bedroom.

And something was very wrong.

Kristin's surprise, cheery lunch invite certainly possessed no ominous undertones, although given their turbulent history, particularly the nature of their last conversation, it was an extraordinary occurrence.

Unfortunate choice of words.

Beyond the problem of resuming an immolation prone relationship, was Idina being seen with Kristin in a city where a portion of the population sought only to photograph and sell the mundane comings and goings of another portion to a rapacious third. But Kristin said she knew a place. Kristin _always_ knew a place.

Despite her wariness, lunch proved lighthearted and - dare she think - _fun._ If anything troubled Kristin, _particularly_ Idina’s recent marriage, she hid it well, offering seemingly sincere congratulations and picking up the tab for their rendezvous. “I didn’t get you a wedding gift,” was her rationale for the meeting. Still, Idina was dubious lunch was a belated wedding gift, or an excuse for vacuous conversation, impressions Kristin seemed determined to impart. If she truly sought the latter, she could have summoned any of her celebrity friends for that indulgence. Their own tortured history precluded _any_ reunion, no matter how brief or seemingly trivial, from dwelling only on matters of little significance.

"2018 will be a big year for me," Kristin confessed, sensing Idina's skepticism. "I want to reconnect with people with whom my relations are strained. And you, darling Dee, are at the very top of my mountain of regret. If I can fix my relationship with you, the rest will seem like cake," she said with a wry smile. 

"What’s happening in 2018? Your new TV show where you're some kind of fairy godmother? Another album?"

For a fleeting moment, Kristin appeared dejected, but recovered quickly and flashed her patented smile.

"Both, actually. Cheers to me," she said, raising her glass.

Idina excused herself for a restroom break, citing natural childbirth as the reason for her impatient bladder. Her curiosity wasn’t entirely satiated, but making amends and fixing relationships were very Kristin Chenoweth-y activities. But during desert, Idina grew increasingly sick to her stomach and light headed. After directing the valet to bring her car around, Kristin convinced Idina a trip to Kristin’s condo to sleep it off would be the best medicine, and she’d call a concierge doctor to ensure privacy. Given her compromised status, Idina offered little resistance. Semi-conscious during the drive, she leaned on Kristin as they exited the car and entered the condo, finally succumbing to the dark after dropping onto Kristin’s bed.

Upon awakening, she immediately noticed something amiss. Her attempt to groan was smothered as her lips were adhered together, courtesy of the large swath of duct tape over her mouth, bringing her to full, panicked attention. She was on her back in Kristin’s bed, her arms over her head, wrists crossed and bound by more duct tape. Two long scarves, one knotted to each bed post and looped around her wrists kept her upper body firmly adhered to the mattress. After failing to swing her legs off the bed, she lifted her head and saw her ankles and upper thighs were also wrapped tightly with tape. Another scarf was interwoven through her bound ankles and secured at the bottom frame. Her shoes had been removed as she could see her toes through the nude stockings she had worn as it had been cool that day. Her jacket was missing, but otherwise she was still fully dressed in her striped white blouse and beige skirt.

She had never seen Kristin's Beverly Hills condo as the blonde only purchased it just before their final, bitter parting, which occurred soon after their seemingly triumphant reunion singing “For Good,” at producer David Stone’s tribute. After the fandom-pleasing hug in front of the cameras, the unavoidable subject of Idina’s move into a new Encino, California house with Aaron Lohr resulted in an exchange of shouts, tears and another angry separation. They had not spoken since. In the interim, Idina and Aaron married, and a 15-year emotional roller coaster ride came to its final bitter stop.

Or not.

She thrashed and attempted calling out to Kristin, her furious effort halted when she heard the melody created by small hands gently gliding over the keys of the Steinway piano in an adjoining room. Then, that distinctive soprano resonated throughout the condo.

_"I'm a fool to want you...I'm a fool to want you...To want a love that can't be true...A love that's there for others too._

_"I'm a fool to hold you...Such a fool to hold you...To seek a kiss, not mine alone...To share a kiss that devil has known._

_"Time and time again I said I'd leave you...Time and time again I went away...But then would come the time when I would need you...And once again these words I'll have to say._

_"Take me back, I love you...Pity me, I need you...I know it's wrong, it must be wrong...But right or wrong, I can't get along without you._

Even in her present state, Idina became entranced, pausing her struggles to listen. It was the voice that awed her from their first readings together more than 15 years ago, the voice that could flawlessly segue from country to opera and everything in between. It was the voice that soothed her to sleep on those nights in bed together after her confidence and self-esteem had been shattered by another problematic day of rehearsal, or by another act of betrayal from the man who had sworn to forsake all others for her. Once the song ended, Idina tried screaming Kristin's name again. The sliding of a piano bench across a hardwood floor, the squeak of sneakered feet and the clatter of a dog's nails comprised the trio of responses. Next, a small, slight figure, whose fragility was incongruent with the powerhouse vocals of moments ago, appeared within the door, a burgundy short-sleeved shirt hanging loosely over her almost unhealthily thin frame. She wore black leggings, having adopted a more casual look since leaving the restaurant, and her thin, stringy hair was tied back in a long ponytail. 

“I was hoping you'd be awake," she said in a loud, cheery whisper. "Thunder! Go back and lay down in your bed in the piano room! Mommy wants to talk to someone," she sharply commanded the small chocolate mop with two eyes and four legs that followed her. "Thunder" quickly complied, leaving the women alone.

"How we doing?" Kristin asked as she approached the headboard, her voice expressing the genuine, yet breezy concern one might use with someone recovering from a cold. 

Idina reacted wild-eyed with a litany of loud, marginally coherent noises demanding answers. Upon seeing Kristin’s face, she grew even more unnerved. In more care free times during the occasional role play, Kristin relished the villain role. No matter how campy the dialogue or dire Idina's "peril," Kristin’s eyes always possessed a playful, evil twinkle that not only gave the game away, but anticipated the inevitable retribution. Yet her current look was frightening in its normalcy and lack of theatricality.

"OK, OK, _stop!_ " She shouted, her face tensing and finger raised, ending Idina's mmphed questioning. The brunette quieted, but subtly moved her mouth around in an effort to loosen the gag.

Walking to the end of the bed, Kristin sat and began gently massaging Idina's stocking feet with both hands. Idina shrieked in surprise, not only at the soothing touch, but the casualness of the act in these circumstances. It was a mutual ritual that once capped many a grueling evening of rehearsal.

"It sounds trite and clichéd, but I slipped you a mickey when you went to the bathroom. It wasn't enough to knock you out right away, but make you woozy and susceptible to suggestion. You had to be able to walk because I certainly couldn't have carried you, and asking a hunky passer by to "please carry the passed out woman to my condo" would have looked odd. Fortunately, you got to the bed in time. After tying you up, I called -" and she paused, scowling, as if the mention of his name would rot out her teeth, or invoke a spell putting him in the room with them. "That man - and told him you’d gotten sick and were spending the night at my condo. He wanted to talk to you but I said you were medicated and sleeping. He bought it, and said he’d tell Walker, who I know is with his father for the week, so he wouldn't worry if he couldn't talk to his mom. Yeah, I did my homework. And after all, who wouldn't believe sweet little Kristin Chenoweth? You never told him, did you?"

Idina's eyes narrowed, conveying enough emotion to compensate for her inability to speak. She pulled on her bonds and struggled with the restraints around her legs, punctuating her travails with loud, angry muffled sounds.

"Yeah, this..,” Kristin said, nodding to reference Idina’s bondage, as she continued rubbing her feet. “I had this whole internal monologue, you know, like in the old cartoons where the character has an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, each talking to him, trying to convince him to do it their way. The angel told me to just have a nice lunch and talk to you and we'd get everything worked out. But the devil said "the last time you tried that it all went to shit, remember?” And he was right. We’re past the point of rational conversation about these things. 

"This place is pretty soundproof, but my upstairs neighbor has complained when I've been singing past midnight. The bitch. And with _your_ noisemaker I have no doubt the old bat could hear you."

Releasing Idina’s feet, Kristin took a deep breath, straightened her back, slapped her hands on her knees and said nonchalantly "Can I read you a little something?"

Idina lay silent, in disbelief, waiting for Kristin to drop the facade and break out in an evil little cackle, acknowledging the prank, while someone with a camera walked out of the closet. Instead, the blonde rose from the bed and walked out the room, returning quickly with an IPAD. Sitting back down near Idina's feet, she tapped on the screen, and released a sigh before reading.

" _Wanted to let you know. Married the love of my life, Aaron Lohr, this weekend at our home_." Her voice wavered and a tear fell from her eye onto the screen. “ _Dad and son walked me down the aisle. It was magical._ " A moment of silence was followed by the IPAD slipping from her grasp and falling to the floor. She dropped her face in her hands, choking back sobs.

After watching in silence for a few moments, Idina resumed mmphing. Kristin raised her head and yelled " _ **Shut up! SHUT THE FUCK UP!"**_ with a rage exposing her previous calm as a ruse, finally giving vent to the torment consuming her. “You'd think that with a gag over your mouth you'd get the message that I don't want to hear from you right now! _I'll let you know when you can talk!_ "

Idina grew fearful, increasingly aware of her vulnerability. Screaming at each other was old hat, beginning with several musical related blow-ups during _Wicked_ over hurt feelings, bruised egos and misunderstandings, inevitable in the pressure cooker they were foisted in for almost two years as a $14 million capitalization hung by a fraying lifeline. Later came the rages ignited by their crumbling relationship when it became apparent Idina would not leave Taye. But even at the crescendo of those explosions, Idina never feared for her safety, nor worried that Kristin might be losing her mind. But now, in tandem with her fears for herself, was the concern she might be watching her friend and former lover have a psychotic break.

But the blonde’s anger subsided, and she quietly spoke while staring at the floor. ” _I_ was the love of your life - long ago, it seems. But during all this time, you _never_ stopped being the love of mine." She now looked at Idina. "I saw myself in that picture with you many times - never wearing the same dress twice obviously,” she said with a soft chuckle.

"We talked about getting married, remember? We researched it. Back then Massachusetts was the only state allowing same sex marriage. We talked about marriage because I didn't want to be just a girlfriend. I wanted to be a _wife_. I wanted a spiritual _and_ a legal bond – like my parents have had all these years.

“It was going to be a private little wedding in New England, in a small town that still had a lot of the old style colonial homes. Deerfield, I think it was the place we chose, where they filmed scenes for that _Little Women_ movie with Winona Ryder, because the real Concord was too modern looking. It'd be in the fall, at season's peak, when the leaves were falling and at their most orange and brown. I imagined all sorts of pictures in addition to the usual poses, of you carrying me in your arms, or of me riding on your back to get all of the “look how short Kristin is,” angles; of each of us standing in a pile of leaves, tossing some into the air and watching them slowly drift to the ground. I always loved the crunching sound dry autumn leaves make when walked over.

“I was such a damn, naïve fool to believe it would be anything other than a fantasy. Of course, if I had left everything up to you, we’d never even have had the memories, would we?

"We were trying so hard not to face what was happening. Me, with my religious background, and you, with your marriage and all of your other hang-ups. Finally, I realized that while the price of giving in was going to be high, the price of _not_ taking that chance at love would be even higher. So, I decided to throw all of the cards on the table." 

  


_San Francisco - Spring 2003_

Idina sat cross-legged on her king size hotel bed, script pages scattered in front of her, notes scribbled alongside the margins, and total dejection on her face.

_I’m never going to get the hang of all this. There are too many changes and I’m not smart enough to keep up. They’re going to fire my ass and make me pay for my own ticket back to New York._

Further self-flagellation was interrupted by a rapping on the door to “shave and a haircut.”

_Who the fuck is this?_ She staggered to the door and stared through the peephole. Kristin Chenoweth in a pink chenille bathrobe stared back.

Idina cracked open the door, her eyes quickly scanning her surprise visitor from head to toe. Kristen stood unassuming, hands in her robe’s pockets, the toes on her right foot scratching her left ankle.

“I didn’t order room service.”

Kristin placed her left hand flatly against the door and forcefully pushed it forward, followed by the rest of her. Idina closed the door and eyed her uninvited guest suspiciously. 

“You need something, Kris?” she hesitantly asked, her senses on red alert. Normally the chatty blonde would have profusely apologized for her sudden appearance at this hour and stated what she wanted up front, all without crossing the threshold. Kristin spun around to face Idina and flung off her bathrobe.

”Oh shit,” Idina gasped upon seeing Kristin’s wardrobe choice was identical to the one she was delivered in back in 1968. “What. The. Fuck?”

For the next few moments, Kristin sashayed, glided, and danced across the floor as Idina, at first incredulous, began giggling and moving to mirror Kristin.

_”Let's fall in love...Why shouldn't we fall in love? Our hearts are made of it...Let's take a chance...Why be afraid of it?”_

Kristin moved in and wrapped her arms around Idina’s neck, and their bodies swayed in tandem as they slow danced.

_”Let's close our eyes...And make our own paradise...Little we know of it...Still we can try...To make a go of it..._

_”We might have been meant for each other...To be or not to be, let our hearts discover._

_”Let's fall in love...Why shouldn't we fall in love? Now is the time for it, while we are young, let's fall in love.”_

Kristin looked into Idina’s green eyes with longing, waiting for a cue. 

Idina smiled as her eyes began watering.

“Let’s,” and she leaned toward Kristin for the kiss.

  


"It's funny," Kristin continued upon finishing the flashback. "Funny ironic, not funny ha-ha, that Little Miss Fundamentalist Baptist was the one willing to chance so-called "non-traditional" love, while Big Liberal New Yorker would cling to convention."

Kristin scooted along the bed until she reached Idina’s head. “I’ll take the tape off your mouth IF you promise to talk in a normal tone. The first sign that you might scream or call out, I’ll wrap the whole roll around your head. Understand?”

After a deep sigh, Idina nodded, and Kristin slowly peeled back the tape, which was barely off her lips before her pent-up anxiety ignited rapid fire questioning.

”Kris – what the hell is going on? Why are you doing this? Is this a joke? Have you lost your fucking mind? Untie me - _please!_ ”

” _Dee_ …” Kristin raised a finger in warning as Idina’s voice began to rise.

”Goddammit, you owe me an explanation!”

Two small hands clamped over Idina’s mouth and pushed down hard.

”Shut up and I’ll give you an explanation – OK? _**OK**_?”

Wide eyed, Idina’s face reddened as she breathed heavily against Kristin’s palms. She closed her eyes, slowed her breathing, re-opened her eyes and gently nodded. Eyes glaring at her captive, Kristin slowly removed her hands.

“Does that man know what we had? What we meant to each other? Did you tell him – like you told your ex? Because believe it or not, I ran into him after your divorce, and with a shit eating grin on his face he said “maybe you two can pick up where you left off.”

“That man’s name- my _husband’s_ name - is Aaron,” Idina said slowly and firmly, barely suppressing the urge to scream at Kristin, whose face hardened further upon hearing Idina mention her husband. “And no – I _didn’t_ tell him. He doesn’t need to know. I never told _anyone_ , except my sister. I even lied to my own parents when they asked, although I’m pretty goddamn sure my mother didn’t believe me. And I didn't have to tell Taye anything. He was a professional philanderer. He knew all the looks and the tricks and the excuses, so there was no fooling him. Bastard thought it was a turn on and joked about having a three-way. 

“But why are you doing this? Because I got married? How is kidnapping me going to change anything? What happened to you? I never thought in a million years you’d be capable of something like this.”

”Thinking was never one of your specialties, as I recall.”

”Fuck you. Kris, untie me, let me go now, and that’ll be the end of it. I promise I won’t tell a soul. This isn’t like you. If you need help, counselling….”

"I’m already in therapy. But sure, go ahead and sign me up for some sessions with your husband. That’ll be a _lot_ of fun in more ways than one.”

"Why are you doing this NOW? _After_ I’m already married? Why not when I announced my engagement? Or when I moved in with him? I hadn’t heard from you since we did “For Good” at David Stone's tribute, and you knew Aaron and I had already bought a house…”

” _Aaron and I_ bought a house. That’s pretty damn funny wouldn’t you say?”

”What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

”You know damn well what it means! Who _really_ bought that house, Dee? Better yet, _who bought that fucking ring_?” referring to Idina’s wedding band. “I saw the photos of you flashing it around in Las Vegas. I know my jewelry, and that little bastard had to cost at least $30,000! Don’t try to con me for one second that a _registered intern_ – yeah – I checked - can afford a $30,000 engagement ring _and_ share the cost of a $3 million home in Los Angeles! He’s not a psychiatrist! He doesn’t make that kind of money! 

“You’re not his wife, Dee. You’re his meal ticket!”

”FUCK YOU! How dare you! You don’t know him! Goddammit, Kris –!”

Kristin slapped the tape back over Idina’s mouth, which didn’t suppress the words, only made them less intelligible. Noting how the tape failed to adhere as solidly as before, Kristin grabbed the role of duct tape off the dresser, snapped off a longer strip off the roll and pressed it over the existing one, the longer ends adhering to previously un-taped skin.

”Does marrying someone like him give you a sense of power and control?” Kristin shouted over Idina’s vigorous protests. “Power and control over a man you didn’t have when your father divorced your mother? Power and control over a man you didn’t have whenever Taye spent the night in another woman’s bed? Have you got him so pussy-whipped he doesn’t go to the bathroom without your permission? 

“Do you know how sickening it was to read and hear you say "my man" or “my guy” all of the time on social media and your interviews? Each time you said that, it felt like another dagger was plunged into my heart. And who the fuck were you trying to con? Him? The media? _Yourself_? Or were you trying to see how many different ways you could say “Look at me everyone, I'm Idina Menzel and I have a **_maaaaaaan_**. See how happy I am!” Do you realize how absolutely **_pathetic_** that looks? Some feminist _you_ are!

“You are such a hypocrite. For all of your talk about being a friend of the gay community, and that “love letter” to the community you wrote, which of the two of us is the most hung up on the heteronormative view of the world and our place in it? _I_ was willing to commit to you and make it public, and the hell with what the rest of the world thought! My parents would've had a few moments, but I know in the end, they want me to be happy and have someone who loves me unconditionally. As far as all of the other Christians - the ones who matter wouldn't care and the ones who think I'll burn for my "sins" anyway, like those Westboro Baptist nuts, can eat shit and die.

"Speaking of social media, you don’t communicate as much there as you used to – probably because you're too busy getting your brains fucked out by that hairy Neanderthal.”

Although Idina was not actively resisting her bonds, a growl and furrowed brow telegraphed her reactions to Kristin’s latest insults. Suddenly, Kristin grew pale. She grit her teeth and put her fingers to her temples.

“I’ve got another headache. Lord, don’t let it turn into another migraine. I’ve got to go. 

”But so you don't rub that off or loosen it by getting it moist," Kristin grabbed a scarf from a drawer, wrapped it around Idina's head and knotted it once, then a second time, tightly in the back. 

"I’ve got to lay down for awhile. I'll be back when I’ve calmed down. Maybe you should rest, too.” Kristin left the room and turned the lights out, leaving Idina to defy Kristin’s suggestion of rest by violently struggling with her restraints again and attempting to scream through her gag.

  


_San Francisco – 2003_

The closer they got to previews, the longer and more stressful the days became. Rather than being locked down, the story and songs seemed even more fluid. Although Elphaba’s character was the lead, the writers found it problematic to write her strong enough to overcome the power of The Chenoweth Dynamo, which could magnify a character beyond its actual story importance. Compensating for that imbalance strained the relationship of the ladies at the center of the turmoil, the changes frustrating Idina due to her difficulty keeping pace, and frustrating Kristin as she felt the writers were marginalizing Glinda to strengthen Elphaba. In any production, cliques and bubbles tend to form in which cast and crew members seek mutual support within the group. But from the perspective of the leading ladies there were only two – one for them, and one for everyone else. At day’s end, the only one each of them could relate to – was the other. Whereas this tension physically and emotionally exhausted Idina, some nights it triggered Kristin's insomnia.

But on those nights, as Kristin lay awake, her mind racing, she often had a soundly sleeping companion. When not spooning, Kristin would gaze at her lover's face, listening for each breath, smiling at the occasional snore.

_”I couldn't sleep, and wouldn't sleep,_ ” she sang softly as she brushed the dark and messy mop on top of Idina's head. “ _Till love came and told me I should not sleep...Bewitched, bothered and bewildered - am I._

_”Lost my heart, but what of it? She was cold, I agree..She can laugh and I love it...Although the laugh's on me._

_”I'll sing to her, each spring to her...And long for the day when I'll cling to her...Bewitched, bothered and bewildered - am I.”_

  


Kristin tentatively drifted back into the bedroom where Idina lay secured, uncertain if her captive were awake. Idina uttered a low moan, as if signaling she would not create a problem if she were allowed to speak. Kristin untied the scarf over her mouth and pulled back the tape, but left it attached to her cheek. 

”Is this where you rape me?”

”No!” Kristin reacted with genuine surprise. “Why would you think I was capable of such a thing?”

”Well, I never thought you were capable of _this_! And look where we are now. Please, just untie me and let me leave and it’ll stay between us. I won't tell a soul. I'll give Aaron a food poisoning story and no one else will ever, ever know about this. You can’t keep me here tied to your bed. How long will it be before Aaron starts to miss me? Or Walker wonders why I haven’t Skyped him? Or my managers wonder why I’m not available? Or I have to take a piss or a shit?" 

”That’s not going to be a problem.”

”What do you mean that’s not going to be a problem? What are you going to do?”

“Me? Nothing. _You_ on the other hand…you are gonna call that man - and you’re gonna tell him you don’t love him, you _never_ really loved him, and that he was just a rebound from Taye. He’s to get his ass out of that fancy little house and you're going to sell it."

”You really have lost your fucking mind. Where are we going to live in your little fantasy world?”

”New York. Naturally we’ll have to maintain a place in California because so much of the business is here - not this place as it’s too small for three, more if possible. New York has everything we need and more - the theaters, the opera, the museums - and snow! Walker will _love_ the snow and the change of seasons.

”California has become a horrible place. Earthquakes, fires, mudslides, water shortages, and with climate change it’s going to keep getting worse. And I don’t think this is a good place to raise children. You’re a New York girl, through and through, and you don’t belong here. I always felt New York was my second home after Oklahoma. And it’ll be _our_ home.”

  


_New York City – early 2004_

Kristin hesitantly pushed her apartment door wide open, and stood at the threshold, wary of entering. She sighed as she took a panoramic view. It was clean, spotless, everything was where it was supposed to be, and nothing was out of place. It was just perfect.

And she hated it.

How many times had she walked in and fumed, sometimes silently, sometimes not so silently, at the many signs of dishevelment? Shoes used to be carelessly discarded in front of the door where someone could step on or trip over them. How many times had a jacket been draped over a kitchen chair when it would have taken 10 seconds to put it on a closet hanger? Discarded socks on the floor by the bed, the underwear drawer half open, and the covers pulled down were all dead giveaways as to who was the last one to get up in the morning. So much for the rule “last one up tidies up.” _And we won’t even go in to the state of the bathroom._ On some days it seemed like she was sharing the place with a child rather than a grown adult.

But things like that transformed it from simply a place to live to an actual _home._

Finally forcing herself inside, she walked to the kitchen table and sat down, her eyes fixated on a folded piece of paper and a set of keys set on top of it. She didn’t plan on reading the note. She knew what it said.

" _A chair is still a chair,_ ” she sang in a voice barely above a whisper. " _Even when there's no one sitting there._

_”But a chair is not a house...And a house is not a home...When there's no one there to hold you tight, and no one there you can kiss good night._

_”Darling, have a heart...Don't let one mistake keep us apart...I'm not meant to live alone...Turn this house into a home._

_”When I climb the stair and turn the key...Oh, please be there, still in love with me.”_

  


”Your deranged little fantasy won’t fly with Taye or his lawyers. One reason I have a home in California is to make it easier to comply with the visitation arrangements that were part of our divorce settlement.”

”We’ll have lawyers, too. And believe me, I’ll play a _lot_ nastier than you did with him to get what I want. You know damn well what kind of shit my PI’s could uncover on _him_.”

”What _you_ want? Kris – are you hearing yourself? This isn’t just about you. Fuck, it’s not even about just you and me! There’s an 8 year old child you’re forgetting.”

”I’m not forgetting Walker! Getting him the hell out of this state and away from that shit father of his will be the best thing for him!”

”That’s not for you to decide! And for all of his other faults, Taye is a _good_ father! I’m not taking his son away from him!”

”Everything he put you through and you’re defending him? You’re the one talking crazy now!” Kristin reached down and re-applied the tape over Idina’s mouth. After that, she pulled open the drawer on the nightstand next to the bed and brought out a copy of Idina’s self-titled CD. “I wanted to go over this with you. It’s from Target so it has the bonus tracks.” She sat back down on the bed.

"After listening to your album, I think only Taylor Swift is whinier than you, and she has the excuse of being half your age. I can't believe how many of those songs had you bitching about Taye breaking your heart, not to mention you also bringing up your goddamn divorce in virtually every interview with that same pathetic “oh please feel sorry for me and the pain I’m going through.” Boo hoo hoo. All over a man who proved himself unworthy of your love and trust _over and over and over_ again. And then there are the songs about your new _maaaaaan._

”But the worst of all is "Cake." Idina Menzel, fierce feminist, defines herself by how a _man_ sees her. You're another man's "cake" ? Disgusting.

”And then…there’s "Extraordinary.””

Idina closed her eyes and turned her head away.

”Uh huh. I remember eight years ago. Taye was making the rounds - _again._ So you called me - _again_. And like a lovesick teenager, I let you back in my heart and my bed - _again_. And then you went back to that bastard - _again_.

“It was _so_ nice of you to give me _one_ fucking song on your album, while _Art of Elegance_ is ALL about you! Almost every damn song was about you! And I wasn’t just singing _about_ you, I was singing TO YOU!"

“You wanted to know what set this off? You want to know why I kidnapped you? It wasn’t the house. I've lived with a man before. It wasn’t the engagement. I’ve had two of those. And believe it or not, it wasn’t even you getting married! How long do marriages last in Hollywood? I figured I’d let this little fad of yours run its course. 

"But you've heard the saying “Death by a Thousand Cuts?” The final cut for me was the day before Christmas when you tweeted that picture of you and Aaron together at that thing for his work.”

She retrieved her IPAD from the floor.

”OK - here's what the world read - " _Great night out with my husband, Aaron Lohr_ " - like everyone reading your Twitter wouldn't already know he was your fucking husband - " _celebrating Rock to Recovery and his work with Avalon Malibu. Very inspiring._ " What you really said was – “Look at me! I'm married now! Aren't you jealous? I’m so proud of my _maaaaaaaan_! Don't you wish you had one, too? 

"I was visiting my parents, when I saw this tweet. It was Christmas Eve. I was in the bedroom my parents keep for me when I visit, with Thunder.

"I told you 2018 was going to be a memorable year for me. But not because of the damn TV show or the album. It's because I’m going to be 50 years old! _**Fifty fucking years old!**_ And you didn’t remember the year I was born! We actually celebrated my _40th_ birthday - remember? And I told you I dreaded turning 50! Yet there I was, almost 50 years old, sleeping in my bedroom in my parents' house with my dog! Do you know how absolutely fucking pathetic that is?

"I thought I'd have children by this age. But now - now I know I'll never have any.” She reached over and pulled back Idina's gag. "And now you know what this is all about."

“Kris," Idina gently responded, finally understanding Kristin’s motives, and witnessing the sheer depth of her distress, her anguish. "You of all people know about adoption. You can do for someone what your parents did for you.”

“But I don’t want to do it alone! I don’t want to be a single parent! I want a partner to share parenthood with. I want to go to PTA meetings and school concerts and plays, and Little League Baseball Games and soccer games and I want to do it with the woman I love! I want to share the joy of watching our children grow up, and share the heartbreak when they finally do. You know how badly I want to be a mom and a grandma. And you know that man couldn’t possibly love that little boy any more than I could!"

"But you're Kristin Fucking Chenoweth!" Idina's voice rising to match Kristin's. "And _everyone_ just loves Kristin Fucking Chenoweth! Men, AND women, would line up for a mile to be with you! Maybe _you're_ the problem. Maybe you're just too goddamn picky."

"You're right! I am too goddamn picky! That's because I don't want them to love _Kristin Fucking Chenoweth_! I want them to love Kristi Dawn. The only people who ever loved Kristi Dawn were Shawn and Marc because they knew me before there was a Kristin Fucking Chenoweth - and _you_. I want someone to love Kristi Dawn because one day there won't _be_ a Kristin Fucking Chenoweth any more. 

”Do you realize how many health problems I have, Dee? _Serious_ health problems? And they're all going to get worse. I have a brain injury that will never go away. My memory lapses are growing worse and I sink into depression easier and deeper. My neck will never fully heal, I'll always have the migraines and the insomnia and the Meniere's. The only way to take care of my Meniere’s is surgery that will destroy my hearing – and even if I don’t have surgery I may lose my hearing anyway! Do you know what that day is going to be like for me? The day I can no longer hear music is the day I might as well be dead. On that day, Kristin Chenoweth will be no more - and all that will be left is little Kristi Dawn. Old, ugly and frail little Kristi Dawn. I can't bear to face that alone. But the only people who are going to want to be with me are the ones trying to get their hands on my money."

The agony in Kristin’s voice, the realization of the depth of her pain, and what her desperation had driven her to, moved Idina, and a solitary tear trickled down her cheek.

"Don't you fucking cry! I don't want your goddamn pity!" 

"Kris..." Idina choked out. "I am so sorry. You're right. I am a hypocrite. But you know my story. My parents divorced when I was 15, and they stopped loving each other long before that. What it did to my sister and me, how it shattered our sense of security...You had your parents, your grandparents, your brother and sister-in-law, all with long, happy marriages. I never got to see _that_ kind of love, so I was desperate for it, for myself, and for my son."

"You could have had it with me."

”No, I couldn't have. Kris…please…I’ve admitted I’m a hypocrite, OK? But the life I have now – loving you couldn’t give me that. Perhaps I will never love Aaron as much as I still love you. But Aaron does love me, and I know he won’t be galavanting like a sailor looking to get laid at each port of call. He will never betray me. I know that. Maybe I know because of the power I have. But you know what? It feels good to finally have that kind of power over a man. But I also want my son to have a constant male presence who loves his mother, and is kind to his mother, so that when he grows up _he_ will know how to treat a woman. Maybe’s it’s too “Leave it to Beaver,” and maybe I am betraying everyone on some level…but _I need this._ And it is the thing you cannot give me, the wound you cannot heal. I am so - _mmmmpppphhh_!"

Kristin grabbed Idina's face and forced her tongue into her mouth. The brunette initially resisted, but the smell of Kristin's hair, of her perfume, the feel of her tongue, and then her lips when they were crushed against Idina's triggered a like kind response. Just as she began to heat up, Kristin re-adhered the tape.

“You tell me what you need. But I know what you _want._ And while your mouth can lie, your eyes and your body can't.”

She unsnapped Idina's blouse, slipped her hands under her bra and massaged her breasts. After Idina's nipples hardened, Kristin removed her hands and pulled down Idina’s skirt, stockings, and underwear. Kristin thrust two fingers into her core and felt the warmth and the wet. Idina moaned under the tape and her midsection began to undulate on the bed. Even in circumstances such as this, Kristin knew just how to touch Idina and make her desperately want to return the love.

But then she stopped.

Kristin stood up straight, her face flushed, horrified, and on the brink of tears. She grabbed the pair of scissors that was on the dresser, snipped through the tape binding Idina's wrists, legs, and thighs, and untied the scarves. She turned her back to her captive and sat at the foot of the bed sobbing gently.

"Go. Just go. Go back to your "man" and your son and your house in the suburbs and your white picket fence and your weekly trash pick-up. Go back to your life where the person meeting you at the airport after a trip isn't a fucking paparazzi, but a person who’s desperately missed you and won’t stop kissing you even after you tell them to stop, but you really don’t mind that they won’t. Go back to where someone has supper ready as you walk in the door after a long day and your son rushes to greet you holding a school project he worked on and has been dying to show you. And then get on your knees and thank God you have it."

She bolted out and into the guest bedroom, slamming the door and shutting herself off from Idina. 

She lay in bed, in the dark, crying, grieved at what she had done. She knew it would only be a matter of time before the authorities were at the door to take her in. She wouldn't resist, nor would she lie. Actions have consequences, and she would have to face them. Her primary worry wasn't being arrested, or the public humiliation, or the destruction of her career, but what her parents would think of her, and the shame they would feel and the grief they would receive from the media and other parties. But she couldn't care less for herself at this moment. 

After an indeterminate period of time, the door slowly opened. _Here they are_ she thought. But the voice at the door wasn't the police.

"Kris?" the voice asked gently.

Without rising from the bed or looking toward her visitor, she yelled "Why are you still here? I told you you were free to go. Just get the hell out of here!”

”In a kidnapping, there’s always a ransom to be paid before the captive is released," came the soft spoken reply drawing closer to her. A hand rested on her shoulder. "I came to pay the ransom.”

  


Idina sat buckled in the front passenger seat, her wrists bound in front of her with duct tape, and a clear piece of tape placed over her mouth, invisible to the casual observer. Not that any of it was necessary. She had no plans to hurl herself from a moving car, nor draw attention to the somber duo riding into Los Angeles. After the ransom was paid, Kristin said "I'll drop you off in LA. You can take a cab or Uber from there." After that, each woman silently separated into different rooms and dressed. Idina accompanied Kristin to her car and offered no resistance when the blonde wrapped her wrists and pressed the tape over her mouth. In an awkward, unspoken way, this seemed to be the “logical” end to the ordeal, concluding with a trip to a neutral drop off point. And, more than likely, it was to ensure that nothing more was said. 

The car stopped in front of the Pantages Theatre, along Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles. Kristin quickly snipped and removed the tape binding Idina’s wrists and pulled the strip from her mouth. With eyes moist, Idina opened the door and stepped out, watching Kristin drive away as soon as the door slammed shut.

Before she spent much time contemplating why this was the drop off point, Idina looked down on the sidewalk and saw the reason. Kristin had dropped her off on the spot where the blonde's star was located along the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Idina grimaced at the thought of Kristin getting the final jab, at least for now, but there was no time to become preoccupied with it. She needed to contact Aaron and tell him she was taking a cab home. The food poisoning story was going to be truth as far as he knew. But first she had to shop for new clothes. The ones she was wearing would be rolled into a garbage bag and dumped in the trash, never to be seen or worn again.

Kristin sang through the tears as she drove back to Beverly Hills. 

_"I get along without you very well...Of course I do...Except when soft rains fall...And drip from leaves, then I recall...The thrill of being sheltered in your arms. Of course, I do...But I get along without you very well."_

  


Kristin’s eyes snapped open and she sat up with a rush, gasping and wheezing, her chest constricting as if an elephant sat on it. She frantically reached for the inhaler on her coffee table, jammed the mouthpiece past her lips and gratefully sucked in the medication that re-opened her airways. 

Returning her inhaler to the table, she stared at the other two objects, her cell phone next to a post it note with Idina’s current phone number at her left, and a small vial of fluid on her right.

Hands shaking, she reached for the vial, and held it between her thumb and forefinger, tipping it back and forth, watching the fluid rush from one side to the other and back again.

Stoically, she padded into the kitchen, to the sink, continuing to stare at the vial. With her chin trembling, and tears flowing, she pulled off the top, tipped it at a slight angle, and watched the fluid slowly stream down the drain.

_No magic for Kristi Dawn,_ she thought as she watched the last drop fall from the receptacle. 

_I get along without you very well...Of course I do. Except perhaps in Spring... But I should never think of Spring....For that would surely break my heart in two._

END

**Author's Note:**

> I originally had several paragraphs explaining why the story was the way it was and why it ended the way it did. But then I said "what the hell, it is what it is."


End file.
